


Kiss Me

by Black_Banshee



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-02
Updated: 2014-03-02
Packaged: 2018-01-13 10:03:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1222162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black_Banshee/pseuds/Black_Banshee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ichabod tucks a stray strand of Abbie’s hair behind her ear, grazing her cheek in the process. </p><p>She glances up at him with her big, soulful eyes, and just like that his resolve melts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss Me

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Kiss](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1055307) by [Deweydell25](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deweydell25/pseuds/Deweydell25). 



Ichabod tucks a stray strand of Abbie’s hair behind her ear, grazing her cheek in the process. 

She glances up at him with her big, soulful eyes, and just like that his resolve melts. 

Leaning down, he captures her lips in a searing kiss. 

Abbie gasps in surprise at the sudden contact. She hesitates for a moment, then parts her lips, granting him the access he seeks.

Their tongues clash wildly, mouths mesh together, sending Ichabod rocking back on his heels.

He clutches Abbie’s waist, steadying them both. 

Ichabod deepens the kiss, eliciting a soft moan from Abbie. 

Reaching up, she twines her arms around Ichabod’s neck, gripping the collar of his coat firmly between her fingernails. She presses her small body against his long, lean one, and Ichabod’s groan in response is all the confirmation she needs to wrap herself tightly around him. 

Leaving her mouth to trail kisses down her jaw, neck and delicate collarbone, Ichabod suckles her smooth skin. Everywhere he touches her, sets her pulse racing and fires up the longing in her blood. 

Abbie doesn’t want Ichabod’s exquisite kisses to end. His lips on her heated skin are heavenly. 

His hands move feverishly up and down her back, longing to taste her skin again.

Moving his large hands to cup Abbie’s face, he plunders her supple lips a second time, savouring the sweet strawberry flavour. 

He would gladly die a hundred thousand deaths to remain thusly entwined with Abbie forever. With a final kiss, he breaks away reluctantly.

Both of them sway unsteadily on their feet; breathless.

Abbie’s lips are swollen and bruised, her eyes two dark orbs of unbridled desire. Ichabod does not need a looking glass to know his face mirrors her own.

“Lieutenant... Miss Mills... Abbie...” he begins. “I apologise. It was most ungentlemanly of me to–”

She puts one finger over his lips, silencing him. “Not another word,” she whispers.

Beneath her fingertip, his mouth spreads into a wicked grin.

Clasping Abbie about the waist, he brings her body flush against his. 

“Ready for part trois, milady?” Ichabod inquires archly.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the line, ‘to do you rest, a thousand deaths would die’ from _Twelfth Night_ (5.1.130).


End file.
